


The Footprints Beside Mine

by LoneMahogany



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Am I Giving It To Him? Yes and No, Floris | Fundy Deserves Better, Floris | Fundy Needs A Hug, Floris | Fundy-centric, Fox Hybrid Floris | Fundy, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Hybrid Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Implied/Referenced Cheating, Multiple Pronouns for Eret (Video Blogging RPF), No Beta We Die Like Fundy’s Happiness, Parent Eret (Video Blogging RPF), Phil Eventually Beats Dream Up, Protective Eret (Video Blogging RPF), Protective Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-17 06:20:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28969725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoneMahogany/pseuds/LoneMahogany
Summary: Fundy looked down, his hands beginning to tremble around the cup. “Uh, Eret..” He ducked his head, and Phil was both amazed and horrified at how small Fundy made himself look. “He didn’t show up. For the papers.”Techno made a face behind Fundy. Phil glared at him as Fundy continued, “B-but I was talking to Tubbo and, uh, Quackity, since they both know about law? And I can just get emancipated. I’d need a job, but Niki said that I could work at her bakery, and I can probably find somewhere to stay, Pogtopia maybe, since no one’s there anymore, but I can get out of your way—”“Fundy,” Phil said, much more calmly than he felt, setting his drink down. “There is an empty bedroom upstairs that is already set up for you. If you don’t want to live here, I’ll personally find someone you like who is suitable to care for you while you sleep here for the time being, but I’d be more than happy to have my grandson staying with me.”—Fundy’s never had someone who’s unconditionally there for him and god damnit, Phil’s gonna change that.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/Floris | Fundy, Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Eret & Floris | Fundy, Floris | Fundy & Phil Watson, Floris | Fundy & Wilbur Soot
Comments: 88
Kudos: 414





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is about the DSMP, not the creators. No real-person fiction over here.

“I thought you said you were done raising kids.”

Phil glanced up from the papers. Techno looked back at him, leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed. Phil set the quill down and gave his son his full attention. “Well, I technically said that before Tommy, so that promise was broken a while ago.”

“But you also said that after Wilbur came home with a baby and a dead girlfriend.” Techno replied, hoof scuffing the floor as he adjusted his stance. Years of raising him had taught Phil what Techno’s tells were and they weren’t failing him even after so long without seeing him. 

Techno was nervous.

“There is a difference between trying to teach your son what responsibilities are after he made several mistakes, and taking in your grandson because he’s been abandoned by everyone else.” Phil said, gesturing towards the door. He walked out and straight into the kitchen, giving Techno a gentle nudge towards the couch as he went. Phil took out a saucepan and began the familiar ritual of comfort hot chocolate.

Techno sank into the softness of Phil’s couch, hugging a pillow as he watched his Dad whisk cocoa powder into the milk. “..Eret wants to adopt him—”

“And Fundy already feels like he’s not part of the family,” Phil cut in, voice firm. “I’m not letting that boy think that we’re tossing him out to the first person we find.”

“But—”

“Nothing of it,” Phil said, sharply. He stopped, turning the flame to low. He leaned heavily on the counter, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I.. I don’t mean to be harsh, but none of you seem to realize how everything’s affecting Fundy. He lost his father for god’s sake, and that was on top of all the other shitty things that’ve happened. Even.. even with Will being a shitty father. That still hurts.”

Techno stayed silent, looking around at the photos hung lovingly on every wall. The clinking of mugs as Phil poured their drinks out just pushed him further into the memories of childhood.

Phil sat down in his armchair, pushing a mug across the coffee table towards Techno. “Drink up. He’ll be here soon.”

Techno picked up the mug, shifting to face away from Phil as he sipped at it. Phil sighed, raising his own mug up to drink. A faint, unsteady knock at the door interrupted him.

“Ah, uh, hello?” A voice called, hesitant in a way that Phil never wanted his family to be in his home.

Phil had met Fundy before. Briefly in person, just a toddler with cute, white-tipped ears and a fluffy tail that tripped him more than it helped him balance, but less briefly through story. He remembers the tales of Wilbur’s traitor son, the one who tore down the walls and burned their flag with a maniacal glee. Who sold every secret he could for power. A fox without morals, no better than the Eret that Wilbur and Tommy had written about. Worse, even.

That description was the furthest thing from the shy teenager waiting in the doorway. His ears were pulled back, his tail fluffed up even as he stared at the ground. He was still stood outside the door, rain dripping off of his fur. Phil could feel himself softening further; he could never let a child stay in distress.

Phil set his drink down and walked to the door, grabbing a towel from linen closet on the way. “Come in, Fundy,” He said, reining in his instinct to start toweling off the kid and just handing him the towel with a gentle smile. “I’ve got some hot chocolate on the stove and the fire’s going.”

Fundy nodded at him with a small, fragile smile as he dried his fur. Phil waved him over, heading back to the living room and gesturing to the couch before making off to the kitchen. Techno stood before plopping himself on the loveseat across from Phil’s armchair. Fundy sat on the couch carefully, sweeping his tail to the side and tapping his fingers against his leg. He left the towel draped over his shoulders, glancing around without looking at Techno.

Phil re-emerged from the kitchen with a third steaming cup that he set in Fundy’s hands with a murmured, “This’ll help you warm up.”

“Thank you,” Fundy whispered, taking a small sip of the hot chocolate.

“So what’s the deal with Eret?” Techno asked, his voice low and gruff.

Fundy looked down, his hands beginning to tremble around the cup. “Uh, Eret..” He ducked his head, and Phil was both amazed and horrified at how small Fundy made himself look. “He didn’t show up. For the papers.”

Techno made a face behind Fundy. Phil glared at him as Fundy continued, “B-but I was talking to Tubbo and, uh, Quackity, since they both know about law? And I can just get emancipated. I’d need a job, but Niki said that I could work at her bakery, and I can probably find somewhere to stay, Pogtopia maybe, since no one’s there anymore, but I can get out of your way—”

“Fundy,” Phil said, much more calmly than he felt, setting his drink down. “There is an empty bedroom upstairs that is already set up for you. If you don’t want to live here, I’ll personally find someone you like who is suitable to care for you while you sleep here for the time being, but I’d be more than happy to have my grandson staying with me.”

Fundy’s head jerked up, his eyes wide. “I— really?” He stuttered, lowering his mug.

Phil nodded. “Of course, Fundy. You’ll always have a home here, or wherever I am.”

Fundy’s lip wobbled and Phil opened his arms in invitation. Fundy set his cup on the coffee table and after a moment of hesitation, he threw himself into Phil’s arms, the towel sliding to the floor as he hugged him tightly. Phil returned the hug, his wings curling around the fox protectively as Fundy trembled. “Shh, shush now, you’re alright.” Phil murmured, rocking him slightly.

Phil heard the quiet clicking of hooves as Techno left the room. He ignored it for now, stroking Fundy’s back as he clung to his shirt, crying.

Fundy had really believed so whole-heartedly that he was unwanted that he already thought about moving into an abandoned ravine. Unbidden, an image of Fundy leaving work at the bakery to curl up by himself in a cold cave to sleep appeared in Phil’s mind. He tightened his hold, slightly overwhelmed by the wave of protectiveness he felt. Fundy felt so small in his arms, so lost and scared. He’d lost both parents, gone through wars, been abandoned by person after person all before adulthood...

God, Fundy was so young.

Phil murmured reassurances as he rubbed circles on Fundy’s back. Fundy’s crying slowed as his breathing evened out, the fox letting out a sigh as he settled.

“Are you ready for bed?” Phil asked quietly. Fundy nodded into his chest, making no move to get up. Phil chuckled, carefully maneuvering to pull Fundy up with him, letting the teen lean against him heavily as he moved them up the stairs and into the room that now belonged to Fundy.

Phil nudged the door open with his foot, walking in and gently setting Fundy up to sit on the bed. Phil smiled at the sleepy look on Fundy’s face. “Can you get yourself into pajamas?”

Fundy nodded, fumbling with his shoes and kicking them off. He stood slowly, before frowning. “My pajamas are in my bag. I left it.. at the door, I think?”

“I’ll get it,” Phil offered. “I’ll take just a moment.”

Fundy yawned, stretching his arms out as he nodded again. Phil patted him on the head, smiling when Fundy leaned into his touch. Downstairs, Phil found Fundy’s bag dropped by the door. It was a small backpack, much too small to hold all of the things that Fundy would need.

‘We can get anything he needs later,’ Phil thought to himself. ‘Right now that kid needs sleep.’

Phil went back up the stairs, bag in hand. He paused outside of Fundy’s door, unable to hear if he was doing anything inside. Phil peeked into the room, smiling at the sight of Fundy sleeping, his head and arm hanging partway off the bed. He stepped into the room, set down Fundy’s pack and began carefully tucking him properly into bed. Fundy snuggled into his pillow and blankets, now mostly buried beneath the comforter. As Phil crept out of the room, he felt something soft beneath his foot. He looked down, picking it up.

It was Wilbur’s beanie.

It was a muddy color from the blood that Phil could see still flaking off. Despite its disgusting appearance, it laid just below where Fundy’s hand had been, dropped only in sleep.

“Oh, Funds...” Phil sighed. He glanced back at the sleeping boy, making his decision as he carried the beanie out of the room and down the stairs to the laundry room. He tried to not throw just one thing in the wash, but he could make an exception for something like this.


	2. The Promised Beating Up of Dream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know if the formatting is weird, as it was showing up weird when I was trying to post this chapter.

It was a quiet morning in the Minecraft household; Phil was cooking breakfast for himself and Fundy, his sons were all out, undoubtedly being menaces to society, and Fundy was still asleep upstairs.

Things were good. Calm.

Phil heard the noise of loud footsteps on the stairs moments before Fundy burst in, looking around frantically. “Phil, did you see—”

“It’s folded on your desk,” Phil interrupted, not unkindly. “I washed it with that flowery detergent that he liked. I also have some old sweaters and pictures of him if you want them. If not right now, they’re always in storage.”

If Phil stopped and stared the next day, looking at the boy dressed in a yellow sweater and beanie curled up in the armchair reading, realizing for the first time that he truly does look like his father, he never said a word about it.

There really was a difference between seeing Wilbur’s ghost literally and seeing the ghost of him in his son.

“Oh,” Fundy breathed, and Phil watched as his shoulders relaxed, fur settling down. “Thank you.”

“‘Course, kiddo,” Phil replied, ruffling Fundy’s hair, taking care to avoid his ears. He nodded toward the table, picking the spatula back up to flip a pancake. “Mind setting the table?”

“Oh! Uh, sure, yeah,” Fundy said, opening the cabinets and gathering the dishes. Phil smiled at the small show of trust that he doubted Fundy even knew he was showing; the fact that Fundy wasn’t racing up the stairs to make sure that Phil was telling the truth spoke volumes about the trust he had for Phil.

The rest of the morning passed in comfortable quiet as they ate their breakfast and broke off to do their own activities; Phil got to work on the garden outside while Fundy read inside, burying himself into tales of his family’s adventures.

A bit past midday, Phil’s sons returned with stories of arson, baked goods, and accidental almost regicide. Phil had raised an eyebrow at the last one, though Techno held firm that, really, Eret had gotten in his way and he had noticed the 6’3 king in the bright red cloak with glowing white eyes, but it wasn’t intentional for his axe to narrowly miss the other’s neck.

“It _was_ an accident, Phil,” Tommy said with a wide grin. “Techno didn’t see Eret and when he spoke, it scared the shit out of him! He fucking squealed like a pig and swung his axe!”

Techno glared at Tommy before pouting at the ground and muttering, “Eret has decent reflexes, so it was fine. I knew he wouldn’t get hit by it.”

Phil laughed, brushing the dirt off of himself as he stood from his spot weeding. “Well, no one got hurt. Eret’s good at taking care of himself anyways.” Phil paused, tilting his head. “Maybe we should invite him over for dinner.. he’s a good lad.”

Phil made his way inside, smiling at the sound of lighthearted ribbing behind him. As he walked in the back door, he saw Fundy shuffling through the kitchen. Fundy glanced up and froze, staring at Phil. Phil softened his smile and asked, “How are you doing, Fundy?”

“I, uh... I’m doing alright,” Fundy replied, his ears twitching towards the backyard. “I’m going out for a bit, if that’s okay..?”

Phil ruffled Fundy’s hair, patting him on the shoulder with his other hand. “Of course that’s okay Fundy. Will you be home for dinner?”

Fundy’s shoulders dropped as he relaxed into the gentle touch. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll be home for dinner.”

“Good,” Phil replied, pulling Fundy into a side hug. “Be safe, message me if you’ll be out later than you thought, and have a good time. I love you.”

Fundy smiled and nodded, making his way to the front door. “I will. Love you too!” With that, the fox left and Phil settled into the familiar rhythm of home.

Three hours later, Phil looked up from the cutting board, smiling at the sight outside the window; Wilbur, he was never calling his son ‘Ghostbur’, and Techno sparring, Tommy calling out to them, most likely heckling them, as their dulled swords clashed. Fundy was due to be home soon and it had been a long time since his family was together and happy. Phil nudged the window open.

“Kids! Come inside and help me with dinner,” He called, grinning as Techno swiped his sword through Wilbur’s ghostly form without thinking.

“Yes! One point for the big man!” Tommy cheered, before he glanced toward the window. “Aww, coming Dad!”

Techno turned and murmured something to Wilbur, who just beamed back at him before taking both of their swords to float over to the shed.

Phil shook his head with a fond smile. Directing Tommy to setting the table and Techno to finishing the mashed potatoes, he settled into the comforting routine of making dinner with his boys.

He had just finished putting the vegetables on the heat when he heard a familiar whine. “Phil, can I have a cookie? I set the table and it looks really nice!”

Phil glanced back, noting the properly set table and Tommy who was staring him down with his best puppy-dog eyes.

“Sure,” Phil said, stirring the squash to keep it from burning. Tommy perked up, reaching for the cookie jar. “ _After_ dinner.”

Tommy pouted at him, crossing his arms. Phil raised an eyebrow at him before turning back to wash his hands. Phil began scrubbing at his hands, watching out of the corner of his eye as Techno snuck a cookie to Tommy.

 _‘Oh well,’_ He thought, turning off the water and shaking his hands off. _‘Techno’s being sweet, it’s not that bad.’_

The front door opened then slammed shut. “God fucking—Fuck!” Fundy yelled, stomping past them and up the stairs. Phil whirled around, staring at him with wide eyes as he started, “Funds—” The sound of Fundy’s door slamming shut cut Phil off.

Tommy frowned, speaking around a mouthful of cookie. “Th’ fuck’s ‘is problem? Ow!” He yelped as Techno swatted the back of his head. Wilbur glanced at Phil. He was quieter now, more looks and actions than words. Phil waved him off. “You boys finish dinner, I’ll go check on him. Wilbur, you’re on veggie duty, Techno, keep an eye on both of them and the chicken in the oven.”

Phil patted his hands dry on his apron as he trekked upstairs. There hadn’t been any noise after the initial door slamming, but his experience taught him that silence could be equally dangerous.

Phil knocked lightly on the door, waiting a moment before peeking in. Fundy was curled up on his bed, facing the wall and trembling. Phil opened the door more.

“You alright, bud?”

Fundy flinched, turning to face Phil. Tears were streaming down his face as he hiccuped. “N-no...”

“Oh, kiddo...” Phil murmured, coming in and settling down next to him on the bed. He opened his arms and Fundy threw himself into them, clutching Phil’s shirt. “I-I’m never fucking good enough!” He sobbed, burying his face in Phil’s chest. Phil held him tightly, shushing him as he stroked his hair.

He sang wordlessly under his breath, a light melody that Wilbur had been singing nonstop, allowing his wings to fold around the distressed fox. It had been a long time since any of his boys needed him like this. One part of him was cooing, so happy that one of his chicklings was seeking comfort from him. Another part was quietly checking through the list of people who could’ve possibly hurt one of his like this and how to carefully annihilate them.

“..Phil?”

Phil hummed, glancing down at him. “Yes?”

Fundy looked away, shrinking in on himself. “You, ah.. you’re probably wondering why I’m upset.”

“I am,” Phil said, shifting to rest his back against the wall, holding Fundy in a loose but firm hold. “You don’t have to tell me yet if you don’t want to.”

Fundy muttered something, head ducked into Phil’s shirt. Phil tilted his head. “What?”

Fundy took a deep breath, shifting ever closer to Phil. “Dream... cheated on me. He’s been cheating for a while, apparently.”

“Oh,” Phil breathed, hugging Fundy. “I’m so sorry, kiddo.”

He was going to fucking murder that green bastard.

“S’okay,” Fundy murmured. “Shouldn’t’ve expected it to last.”

Phil sat up, gently pushing Fundy back to look him in the eye. “No. No, it’s not okay. That’s a fucked up thing to do and you don’t deserve that and he definitely doesn’t deserve you.”

Fundy blinked slowly at him, sniffling. He began to nod, leaning his head against Phil’s shoulder. “Mhm.” He closed his eyes and Phil murmured half-forgotten lullabies as he fell asleep.

“Ah, Phil?”

Phil glanced up to see his sons all hovering outside the door. Wilbur looked distressed, completely focused on his son, though he stayed hovering, literally, in the doorway. Techno was staring resolutely at the wall, even as he scooted towards the door. Tommy, who had spoken, leaned on the doorway. “So how are we beating the shit out of the big man? Sticks, bones, or bare fists?”

Phil pinched the bridge of his nose, huffing. “You lot can’t stay out for three minutes, can you?” He turned back, scooping Fundy up against him to tuck him into bed properly. The task was relatively easy, alarmingly so. Phil made a mental note to ensure that Fundy ate enough.

Wilbur floated over, running his fingers through his son’s hair and tucking stray hairs away with a look of adoration. He turned to Techno, beaming. “Techno, he’s my son!” His smile faded slightly. “He was sad.. my little champion...” Wilbur turned back to Fundy, others forgotten as he whispered loving words to his child.

Phil smiled at the bittersweet sight, taking in the moment in silence. A thought struck him and he turned to Techno and Tommy. “What happened to dinner?”

His sons froze before Tommy cursed and ran out the door and down the stairs. Techno followed him at a slower but still frantic pace.

Phil stood, making his way out of the room as he glanced back at Wilbur. “Keep an eye on him, alright? I’ll be back soon.”

Wilbur hummed, fixing the blankets and pillows as he fussed over his son. Phil smiled, murmuring, “I’ll take that as a yes,” and walking down the stairs and out of the house.

Without his sons as distraction, the anger built up as Phil walked to L’Manberg. Phil took a deep breath in as his hands curled into fists. He was doing his best to keep his composure, to remain calm, but inside he was seething at the hurt done to his family. He saw Dream first, his bright green hoodie a stark contrast against the town. Something in him snapped at the relaxed demeanor of the man, who was simply walking around seemingly without a care.

Phil walked up behind him quietly, getting to just five feet behind him when Dream whipped around, his sword drawn and pointed at Phil’s throat. Phil tensed, ready to brandish his own and beat the shit out of the other with the handle. After a moment, Dream relaxed.

“Hey, Philza.” Dream greeted, lowering his sword and sheathing it. _‘Big mistake,’_ Phil thought, reeling back to punch him in the face. Dream stumbled back, hand flying up to cover his bloody nose. Phil shook his hand off, not minding the specks of blood that went flying.

“That,” He said, almost cheerfully. “Was for messing with my grandson’s feelings. And this—” Phil kicked Dream in the groin, grinning as he let out a strangled yelp. “—is for cheating on him, you green piece of shit.” Dream doubled over and Phil took the chance to knee him in the stomach. “And that’s because you’re an absolute piece. Don’t come near Fundy again.”

“What the fuck?” Dream choked out, wheezing.

“You hurt Fundy,” Phil said, deadly calm. “So I hurt you.” He crouched, staring Dream dead in the eye. “But I’ll do worse if you go anywhere near him again. And trust me, I know worse things to do than just killing you.”

Dream’s eyes went wide before narrowing as he straightened and spat out, “And why do you care? No one gives a shit about him. He’s unlovable. Even his own Dad was more interested in _dying_ than him—”

“Wilbur was sick!” Phil snarled, drawing his sword. “He was sick because of _you!_ He didn’t know what he was doing because of your twisted little mind games and I refuse to let you do the same to anyone else, _especially_ my family!” Phil took a deep breath, sheathing his sword again as he looked at Dream. “That boy is incredibly lovable. He’s a wonderful, loving kid who doesn’t deserve the bullshit that life and _you_ have thrown at him. He’s worth a hundred of you and you gave that up, Dream.”

Phil shook his head. “He was so ready to give everything he had to something like you and _you fucked that up_.” Phil turned, glancing back over he shoulder as he walked away. “Do yourself a favor and stay away from all my boys, yeah?”

Dream stared silently at him, blood dripping from his nose. A chill ran up Phil’s spine at the sight and it was all he could do to not speed up as he walked toward his home where his boys were no doubt waiting for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might go back and edit this because I’m not sure if I’m happy with it, but oh well. 
> 
> The next chapter will actually be Fundy’s POV, though I’m not sure if it’ll be a retelling of the first two chapters from his view and THEN continuing with him, or starting at this point in time with minor mentions/flashbacks to his POV. We’ll see. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


	3. Chapter 3

Fundy woke slowly. He could feel the faint touch of fingers running through his hair, could hear a voice humming an achingly familiar lullaby. He felt small again, like the toddler with a too-big tail and stars in his eyes for his father.

He blinked, the blurry shape of Wilbur smiling down at him. “Hello, Fundy,” Wilbur whispered, his voice echoey but warm. “Phil asked me to let you know that there’s breakfast in the fridge for you. I’d heat it up for you, but I’m still banned from the microwave.”

Fundy’s heart sank as his eyes focused on a bloodied yellow sweater. Ghostbur, not Wilbur.

“Thanks, Ghostbur,” He murmured back, half-burying his face in his pillows. Ghostbur looked back at him with a frown. “Thanks, Dad,” Fundy corrected himself. Ghostbur beamed at him, cool fingers brushing Fundy’s hair out of his face.

“Wait here! I’ll get your food; don’t worry, I’ll get Techno to reheat it. Techno!” Wilbur called, disappearing through the floor.

Fundy closed his eyes, letting out a stuttery breath. He sat back and listened, hearing the sounds of Ghostbur and Techno talking downstairs, birds chirping outside, steady footsteps as Techno walked around. After a moment, he swung his legs off the side of the bed, standing and making his way to the bathroom.

Fundy turned on the light, squinting against the brightness as he turned to face the bathroom mirror. He looked like a mess, bags under his eyes and a tired expression on his face. His jaw ached, purple bruises blooming along it. Fundy traced along it, staring at it in the mirror. Fingers were clearly outlined against his skin, high enough that he would be hard pressed to cover it with a scarf.

The door had clicked behind Fundy, cutting off Phil’s humming. He had still felt the warmth from Phil’s hug and their dinner promise as he made his way to where Dream wanted to meet him.

Fundy wasn’t quite sure why he trusted Phil so much, why lesson after lesson didn’t stick, but—

Phil was different. He always had been. He was the gentle giant, strong and kind, of Wilbur’s bedtime stories. Even when Wilbur left him alone for hours at a time as a kid, then almost forever, Fundy had clung to the idea of a loving, caring grandfather. To the idea of someone who would, _could_ love him unconditionally. Something that Fundy knew even Dream couldn’t do when he thought— before Dream—

He had made up his mind that night, just yesterday when he met up with Phil; he would talk to Phil and either the yearning, hurt child in him would be soothed, or his hopes and belief would be crushed forever. Either way, it would give him what he needed to survive.

And Phil hadn’t disappointed him. He was better, somehow, no longer the kind mentor of Wilbur’s tales but the hero of Fundy’s.

That’s why it hurt even more to see Ghostbur. His haunted past personified in a ghostly caricature of the father he’d always wanted, the father who’d only see Fundy in a room of a thousand.

With these thoughts, he’d traveled down to L’Manberg to see his fiancé, the first person he’d truly believed in who hadn’t betrayed him.

Who was really just another note in a long list of betrayals.

“Is that Wilbur’s beanie?” Dream had asked, gesturing with the hilt of his sword. Fundy nodded, tugging at it. “Yeah, uh, Niki grabbed it that.. that day. She got his coat and thought I might like to have it? Which I do. So... yeah.”

“Oh Fundy,” Dream murmured, sheathing his sword and reaching out to gently cup Fundy’s cheek. Fundy sighed, leaning into the touch and closing his eyes.

“I love you,” Fundy whispered. Dream hummed, thumb brushing along his cheekbone. “I know.”

“Not gonna say it back?” Fundy asked, opening one eye and smiling at Dream, who looked away.

“I... love you.”

Fundy felt his stomach drop, laughing nervously as he held his hand over Dream’s. “If I didn’t know you better, I’d say you don’t mean it.”

“It amazes me, Fundy, how easily you delude yourself. Really, it does.”

It felt like ice-water had been dumped over Fundy as he dropped his hand and stuttered, “W-what?”

Dream smiled, hollow and empty. “I don’t love _you_. And I thought you knew that and were just pretending to be so naive.” His grip on Fundy’s face tightened and his smile grew sharper at the pained noise Fundy made. “But you really are that stupid, huh? Didn’t even notice me going off with George for so long. You’re sad, Fundip.”

“Why... why are you doing this?” Fundy looked up at Dream, who still wasn’t looking at him.

Dream shrugged. “I got bored, I guess. It’s no fun when you had no chance of actually catching me cheating.” He laughed, a harsh sound that Fundy wished he could say he’d never heard before. “After months of sneaking around, it’s become increasingly obvious that you’d never catch on.”

“I—”

“Go home, Fundy,” Dream said, letting go of him. “If you even have one anymore.”

Fundy had turned tail and fled, running back to the house even as Dream’s taunts still echoed in his head. He’d been so _stupid_. He really was naive and hopeless and—

“Fundy? Can I come in? You’ve been in there a while, kiddo,” Phil’s voice called from the other side of the door. Startled, Fundy pulled his hand away from his face. He took a last glance in the mirror and opened the door. Refusing to catch Phil’s eyes, he stared at the floor as Phil looked at the bruises.

“Fundy,” Phil said, his voice calm enough to ring alarm bells in Fundy’s mind. “Who did this to you?”

He reached out before pausing. “May I?” He asked, gesturing towards Fundy’s jaw. Fundy nodded sharply and Phil gently tilted Fundy’s head to look at the bruises. “Who did this?”

“Dream,” Fundy replied quietly. “I—it’s not that big of a deal; it happened yesterday and he’s done with me.”

Phil hummed, still carefully examining the finger marks. “Well, he’s lucky that I didn’t see this before I saw him yesterday, because I probably would’ve killed him.”

“It’s fi—”

“It’s not fine, Fundy,” Phil interrupted, wincing when Fundy flinched. He lowered his voice, moving his hand away. “Like I said before, you don’t deserve to go through this shit and my god, I’ll make sure you don’t have to ever again.”

Fundy laughed, choking on a sob. “You.. you really don’t have to.”

“I’m your grandpa,” Phil replied with a smile as he ushered Fundy out of the bathroom doorway. “It’s kinda my job.” He paused, frowning. “Shit, that makes me feel old. And you’re a little young to have a fiancé anyways.”

Fundy shrugged, sniffling. “I thought it was love, y’know? And it was for me. Just not for him.”

Phil sat down and patted the bed. Fundy sat down beside him, curling up against his side. Phil’s wing stretched out, settling over Fundy as a protective, black blanket of feathers as his arm wrapped around Fundy’s shoulders.

“Ghostbur?” Phil called, thumping his foot against the floor. Ghostbur floated through the door as an audible crash sounded behind it. Ghostbur whirled around, startled, as Phil groaned.

“Oops!” Ghostbur said, turning back to grin sheepishly at them. “I always forget that the plates can’t go through with me.”

Phil waved it off. “It’s fine, Wilbur. I’ll make something fresh for..” He glanced at the clock. “Lunch.” He looked back at Ghostbur. “Can you clean that up?”

“Sure!” Ghostbur chirped, phasing back through the door. After a moment, there was another crash and “Oops!” before it went quiet again.

Phil rolled his eyes with a fond smile. He stood, pulling Fundy up with him. “Alrighty, up you go. Let’s get some food in you.”

“Okay,” Fundy replied, following Phil down the stairs and into the living room.

A frantic knocking at the door startled Phil. Fundy glanced at him, his ears folded back and his tail puffy. Phil gestured for him to stay put as he went over and opened the door.

In that moment, standing at his front door, Phil saw Eret in the most disarray he’d ever seen them in before; Eret’s crown was slipping into their eyes as they breathed heavily, uncovered eyes wide with panic. “Phil— Phil, do you know where Fundy is? He hasn’t messaged me and—” Eret gasped, pushing their crown back with a shaky hand. “Phil, I’m so worried.”

Phil crossed his arms, glaring at the monarch. “What would you care? You didn’t even show up for the adoption.”

Eret stopped, blinking up at Phil. “The— we hadn’t set the date for that yet..?” They shook their head. “That doesn’t matter right now. Not while Fundy might be in danger. Please, Phil.” They begged.

“Eret..?”

Eret looked behind Phil, slumping with relief. “Fundy,” They breathed. Phil took a step back as Eret rushed to Fundy, stopping just in front of him.

“Can— can I give you a hug? You don’t have to, I just—” Fundy cut them off, throwing his arms around them. Eret froze before wrapping Fundy up in a tight hug. “You’re okay,” Eret said, quietly. “You’re okay.”

“Yeah,” Fundy murmured into their shoulder. “I’m okay.”

“What did you mean, you ‘hadn’t set a date yet’?” Phil asked, shutting the front door.

Eret straightened, looking as regal as possible without letting go of Fundy to fix their attire. “Just as I said, I was never informed of a date for the adoption. I was under the impression that I would have needed to discuss it with you first.”

“Yeah, you would’ve,” Phil agreed, stepping closer. Eret shifted, their cloak moving to partially shield Fundy as they put themself in between Fundy and Phil.

“Dream said that he’d tell Eret,” Fundy breathed, voice muffled against Eret’s shirt. “Dream, he— it’s his fault, not Eret’s.”

Phil sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Everything comes back to that bastard, doesn’t it?” He walked past the still-hugging pair, making his way into the kitchen. “Well, you’re welcome to stay for lunch, Eret.”

“I... I thought you’d hate me,” Eret said, their glowing eyes wide.

Phil glanced back through the kitchen doorway. “Well, you sure fucked my kids over in that first little war you had, but from what I’ve heard, you’ve more than made up for it.” Phil disappeared into the kitchen. “Besides, it was clear to anyone with eyes how excited you were about possibly adopting Fundy; I figured that something was up.”

Eret let go of Fundy, placing their hands on his shoulders as they looked him in the eyes. “Fundy, I am so sorry that it seemed like I abandoned you. I promise that I won’t let that happen again. Did..” They trailed off, looking towards Fundy’s jaw. “Did Dream do that to you?”

Fundy gave Eret a tired smile. “Dream’s been fucking me over lately and it’s nothing to do with you. It’s nothing to do with you.” Fundy tilted his head, gesturing towards the couch. “Lunch first, then we talk?”

Eret paused, their eyes lingering on the bruises, before nodding slowly. “Alright,” They agreed. “Lunch first, then talking.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, the person who came up with the ‘Fundip’ nickname? God tier. I don’t remember which fic I got that from, but my god. Excellent. Also, Eret supremacy. They will absolutely be showing up a lot more, though the next chapter will probably be Dream’s POV.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There’s a Dream POV of Phil’s Dream beat down and it’s slightly more graphic than the first one, but it’s mostly just more blood description.
> 
> Also I want to thank you guys for the support on this. This is the first fic that I’ve written with multiple chapters, mostly because the sheer amount of love you guys have given it. It’s kinda crazy to me, but just know that appreciate all the support.

“I told him. You don’t have to.”

“Aww,” George cooed. “Just for me? My hero, Dream.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Dream said, rolling his eyes. “Just for you, Prince Charming.”

George opened the door wider, smiling as Dream shifted past him. Dream glanced around George’s house. It was cute, a mushroom themed cottage with cushy furniture and plants scattered around. Dream flicked a leaf on a nearby houseplant and frowned; it was fake.

_‘Fundy likes plants,’_ Dream mused, playing with the leaf. _‘He really wants to start a garden when we get our house. I should get like.. mint or whatever you put in a garden.’_

Dream stopped, letting the leaf slip through his fingers. That was a.. surprisingly domestic thought.

“Dream?” George was looking at him with that half-concerned, half-pouty look that meant he’d missed something important. “Are you listening? What’s up with you lately?”

“I...” How did he tell him, _‘I’m sorry, but I realized that I liked you because you were new and dangerous, because of the thrill of getting almost-caught, that you felt like adrenaline but Fundy feels like home?’_

George’s face fell before going flat, his lips thinning. “You’re thinking about Fundy,” He stated, crossing his arms.

“Listen, I didn’t— I didn’t want to tell him,” Dream said, turning away from him. “I was ready to get married, ready to leave this... this thing behind us.”

“This ‘thing’? Do I not matter to you? You were willing to cheat on your fiancé for me, but suddenly I’m not good enough?”

“It’s because it was cheating that I wanted to do it!” Dream shouted, whirling around to glare at George. “It was the excitement of it that I loved, not you. Did you really think I wanted to leave Fundy for you? I would’ve left him already if that were the case.” Dream stomped towards George, seething. “I _never_ loved you, but I at least cared about you until you ruined everything!”

George flinched back but scowled at Dream, hands curling into fists. “You ruined your own relationship! I never forced you to cheat, you came up with the idea on your own! You know what?” George snarled, shoving Dream back. “Fundy deserves better than you, Dream, and at least he now knows that, you soulless bastard! Get out!” George screamed, shoving him again. “Get the fuck out!”

“Fine! I didn’t want to be here anyways!” Dream screamed back, storming out of George’s house. He could hear George slam the door behind him and a crash as one of the lanterns hanging in the entryway smashed against pavement. _‘Serves him right,’_ Dream fumed.

Dream began making his way towards L’Manberg. Fundy was forgiving, stupidly so. _‘I mean, he doesn’t really have anyone else who gives a shit about him.’_ Dream thought to himself. _‘Enough romantic bullshit spouted off and he’ll come running back to me.’_

The only real threat to him had been Eret, but simply ‘forgetting’ to tell them the adoption day date was enough for Fundy to run off crying. A few reassurances that he was the only one able to love him, some flowers and—

Someone was behind him.

Dream whirled around, sword out and pointed at the possible attacker. Phil stood there, looking at the sword and raising an eyebrow with an unimpressed look.

“Hey, Philza.” Dream greeted, lowering his sword and sheathing it. A sudden burst of pain had him stumbling back, hand flying up to cover his bloody nose. _‘He punched me,’_ He realized, slightly in shock. He hadn’t even seen the other move.

“That,” Phil said, almost cheerfully. “Was for messing with my grandson’s feelings. And this—” Phil kicked Dream in the groin. Dream doubled over, making a pained noise as the blood dripped into his open mouth.“—is for cheating on him, you green piece of shit.” Phil took the chance to knee him in the stomach. “And that’s because you’re an absolute piece. Don’t come near Fundy again.”

“What the fuck?” Dream choked out, wheezing. All he could taste was metallic blood and all he could feel was the pain radiating from his injuries.

“You hurt Fundy,” Phil said, deadly calm. “So I hurt you.” He crouched, staring Dream dead in the eye. Despite himself, Dream felt himself go cold under the fierce stare. “But I’ll do worse if you go anywhere near him again. And trust me, I know worse things to do than just killing you.”

Dream’s eyes went wide before narrowing as he straightened and spat out, “And why do you care? No one gives a shit about him. He’s unlovable. Even his own Dad was more interested in _dying_ than him—”

“Wilbur was sick!” Phil snarled, drawing his sword. “He was sick because of _you!_ He didn’t know what he was doing because of your twisted little mind games and I refuse to let you do the same to anyone else, _especially_ my family!” Phil took a deep breath, sheathing his sword again as he looked at Dream. He had a steely glint in his eye. Protective. Something that Dream hadn’t expected. _Fuck._ “That boy is incredibly lovable. He’s a wonderful, loving kid who doesn’t deserve the bullshit that life and _you_ have thrown at him. He’s worth a hundred of you and you gave that up, Dream.”

Phil shook his head. “He was so ready to give everything he had to something like you and _you fucked that up_.” Phil turned, glancing back over his shoulder. Dream felt a sick satisfaction in Phil’s small shudder at his appearance. “Do yourself a favor and stay away from all my boys, yeah?”

Dream stared silently at Phil as he walked away. He could feel the blood dripping from his nose, warm and thick. He ran his tongue over his teeth, grimacing at the taste. The idea of following, of taking his sword and ripping away the only life that Phil had was so, so tempting.

_‘But then Techno would start another bullshit war and Fundy would probably get enough of a backbone to not forgive me.’_

Dream groaned, wiping the blood away with the back of his sleeve. He winced as the fabric brushed over his nose. It didn’t seem to be broken, but for an old man, Phil packed a punch.

Dream headed to his base, healing himself with a few sips of fruity-tasting health potions, and allowing himself to wallow for just a day.

Then he got to work.

Dream approached the stone platform where George was sprawled and taking in the view of L’Manberg.

George pulled his sunglasses down, giving Dream an amused look. “I’m guessing that you had a run-in with Phil that didn’t go well?” Dream glowered at him, but George merely scoffed. “Don’t look at me like that. You thought you’d do your little trick, huh? Leave him with no one and no choice but to come crawling back to you.” George pushed his glasses back with a cruel smile. “But that didn’t work on him, did it? You were so sure that Phil’d be shitty—”

“Shut up, George!” Dream snarled.

“—That you didn’t even bother trying to ruin _that_ relationship and it bit you in your manipulative green ass!” George crowed.

“I said,” Dream gritted out, drawing his sword. “Shut. Up!”

George pushed the blade away from him, palm against the flat side. “Oh, please. Like you’d actually hurt me.” He tilted his head with an exaggerated pout. “You only purposefully hurt people you actually care about.”

Dream sheathed his sword, keeping his hand over it. George turned away, gazing into the distance as he leaned back, propping his arms up beneath him. “I saw what you did to his face. That’s fucked up.”

“I— it wasn’t that bad,” Dream retorted, tensing as his fingers flexed over his sword hilt. “He’s being a baby about it.”

“There’s an outline of your fingers on his _face_ , Dream,” George said, sitting up and staring at him. “I.. I don’t know what I saw in you if that’s _not bad_ to you.”

“You really don’t—”

“You should leave Fundy alone now, Dream,” George interrupted. “He’s got his family. Sapnap’s got his fiancés. Everyone’s got someone who isn’t you but me, but I know you.” George hopped off the stone, brushing himself off. He tilted his head, tapping a finger against his chin. “Sapnap still talks to me, actually.”

_‘Unlike me, you mean,’_ Dream thought. With a wave of his hand, George walked away, keeping his gaze lowered. It was only staring at George’s back, a sour note of finality fading from the air, that Dream truly realized something that had been obvious to anyone and everyone else.

He fucked up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Am I happy with this chapter? Jury’s still out, but I wanted to get an update posted. Am I trying to redeem this story’s Dream? Hell no. But I do want him to be a bit more than ‘emotionless bastard with a god complex’, so have a Dream that does believe he loves Fundy and kinda does, but shouldn’t be within ten miles of Fundy.
> 
> Part of the reason that this took so long was a combination of school, as I am a senior in high school rn, filming for a production I’m in, and the fact that I now have three other chapter outlines for this but they didn’t fit to go next in the timeline.
> 
> Let me know what you think, and if you comment an idea for a future chapter, I promise that I will almost definitely use it if not make another fic to use it.


	5. Chapter 5

Eret picked at her food, sneaking quick glances at the others at the table; Fundy was eating his food, relaxed in a way that reassured her that Phil hadn’t been behind the bruise better than his words. Phil—

Phil was looking straight at her.

Eret ducked her head down, staring at her potatoes. She had looked Dream in the eye and lied, had betrayed her friends without a single look back, and proudly walked around with a god damn Nokia as her communicator. All this, and yet the thought of Phil’s judgement, of _Fundy’s_ judgement of her shortcomings was so much more terrifying.

“So, Eret, what do you know about Dream?”

“He’s a manipulative asshole with a god complex,” She replied immediately, forcing herself to look up from her plate as she set down her fork. “Talks about— _boasts_ about not having attachments even though he’d go to war if George stubbed his toe on someone’s dropped pickaxe. Can’t do paperwork for shit; that’s what I do.” She added, bitterly.

Phil raised an eyebrow. “A king—”

“Monarch,” Fundy interrupted. Eret smiled gratefully at him as Phil nodded.

“Monarch, sorry,” Phil said. “A monarch who does the paperwork?”

Eret shrugged, fighting against the urge to fidget with her cloak. “There’s a lot of things to do in order to manage a kingdom and I.. I don’t have much help.” She smiled, fondly. “Well, I now have Puffy as one of my knights and she’s been great help.” She nodded at Fundy. “And having good company helps too.”

Phil smiled, reaching over to ruffle Fundy’s hair. “He is pretty good company, isn’t he?”

“The best,” Eret replied, feeling the knot in her stomach loosen. She picked up her fork, eating the lukewarm potatoes as Fundy chattered on about the garden that Phil had in their backyard.

“Funds, could you go get the dessert?” Phil asked, once they were all done eating. Fundy nodded, standing up and making his way into the kitchen. Once he was out of earshot, Phil leaned forward. “Listen, Eret, that kid adores you. He was devastated when he thought you abandoned him,” Phil paused, holding up a hand when Eret opened her mouth. “No need to apologize for that; not your fault. But I need you to know that you have the ability to absolutely _destroy_ Fundy and if you do, I’ll be right there to inflict pain _much_ worse than that on you. Got it?”

Eret nodded slowly, looking Phil in the eye. “Only if you know that the same applies to you.”

Phil smiled widely, clapping a hand on Eret’s shoulder. “Perfect!”

“Ice cream!” Fundy cheered, sweeping into the room with a pint of chocolate ice cream and an ice cream scooper. He turned the carton so Eret could see the ‘hybrid-safe’ stamp on the side. “Isn’t that cool?”

Eret nodded sagely. “Very cool,” She affirmed. Fundy grinned at her. He opened the ice cream, scooping out two scoops on each of their plates.

“An extra piece of dessert for getting misgendered,” Fundy declared, plopping an extra scoop of ice cream onto Eret’s plate. Eret laughed, gently pushing her plate towards him. “I’m okay Fundy, you can have it.”

Fundy shook his head, pushing the plate back in front of Eret with a very serious expression. “No, the tradition of misgender dessert is sacred. Wil— Dad would do it for me and now you get it.”

Phil chuckled, gesturing for Eret to take the ice cream. He looked at Fundy, who was nodding to himself with a satisfied look. “Did Will ever get misgender dessert?”

Fundy beamed at him. “He did! A lady at the farmer’s market we used to go to called him ‘ma’am’ once, so I told him that we had to get an extra berry tart to split. It was.. it was really nice,” Fundy said, trailing off as he sat down next to Phil.

Eret’s eyes softened. “Fundy.. are you doing alright with living with Wilbur?”

Fundy shrugged, spooning ice cream into his mouth. “It’s.. it’s fine,” He mumbled after swallowing. “He’s trying.”

“It’s okay to still be upset with him,” Eret said, setting her spoon to the side. Fundy shook his head, gazing at his ice cream. “He doesn’t even remember what he did,” Fundy whispered, ears flat against his head. “I can’t hold something when, to him, it never even happened.”

“It _did_ happen, and your feelings about it are completely understandable, Fundy.”

“I’m done,” Fundy blurted, standing up. He scraped the half-melted remains of his ice cream into the trash can and ducked through the kitchen doorway.

“Fuck,” Eret said, pressing her palms against her eyes. “I just— fuck.” She looked up, white irises dim against the slowly reddening skin around her eyes. “How do you do it, Phil? How do you always know what to say?”

Phil sighed heavily, looking away from the kitchen to look Eret in the eye. “I don’t,” He said, simply. “I don’t always know. Sometimes what seems right in the moment turns out to be wrong after. You just have to say what you think is best and apologize when you don’t get it right. That’s all a parent can do.”

“Apologize,” Eret repeated, glancing towards the doorway. “I can do that.”

Taking a deep breath, Eret walked into the kitchen. Fundy looked up from where he had been staring at the spice rack, lowering his eyes when they met Eret’s.

“I’m sorry, Fundy. We don’t have to talk about it right now.” She said, keeping a careful distance from him.

Fundy let out a deep breath, leaning against the cool counter. “It’s— I get it. I need to talk about it sometime, just... just not now.”

Eret smiled at him gently. “Not now is fine.” After a quiet moment, she added, “Y’know, Puffy has a little office now. She does something she calls ‘Therapuffy’.”

Fundy gave a small smile. “Therapuffy? Really?”

Eret nodded. “Mhm. You don’t have to, but you could check it out. She’s a great listener.”

“Maybe,” Fundy replied, before reaching out. “Hug?”

Eret beamed at him as she swept him into a warm hug. “Of course,” She said, rubbing gentle circles on his back. “Anytime you want.”

After a minute, Fundy pulled away. “Should we, um, go back?” Eret nodded.

As they walked back to the dining room, Eret froze; there were familiar voices growing louder as they approached.

“Hello, family! We’re back and—” Ghostbur stopped mid-step, staring at the marks on Fundy’s face. “Who,” He started, his voice coldly calm, a tone that Fundy hadn’t heard since Pogtopia. “—did this to my son?”

Wilbur walked up to Fundy, scowling at Phil. “Phil. Who did this to my baby boy? Who the fuck touched him? Who?” Wilbur turned to Fundy, face softening as he reached out to cup his opposite cheek. “Fundy, my little champion...”

Despite himself, Fundy felt tears welling as he looked at his father, who was looking at him with such care, such fierce love as he focused all of his attention on him. “Dad,” He whimpered, leaning into his Dad’s warm, solid touch.

“I’m here, Fundy,” Wilbur murmured, pulling him closer and stroking his hair.

Fundy felt something in him shatter as he sobbed in his Dad’s arms. Distantly, over the shushing and rushing in his ears, Fundy heard Eret make a distressed noise. He didn’t think anything of it, burying himself in his father’s chest, until;

“ _You_ ,” Wilbur snarled. The arms around Fundy tightened. He glanced up, following Wilbur’s furious stare to where Eret was standing, looking regal and stiff. “What is the traitor doing in my home?”

“This is _my_ house, Will,” Phil replied, crossing his arms as he settled in between them. “I’ll have any guest I like and you will not be bothering Eret.”

Wilbur stared at Phil incredulously. “Not _bothering Eret?_ The traitor?” He threw an arm out, gesturing at her. “This.. this _thing_ destroyed my nation!”

“Don’t call Eret a thing,” Fundy said, pushing back from Wilbur, glaring.

“Not now, Fundy,” Wilbur replied, still looking at Phil as he pulled Fundy back towards him.

“You always forget me for one of your stupid grudges!” Fundy yelled, shoving Wilbur away.

Wilbur turned back to him, the color and opacity of his form draining as his eyes widened. “Fundy—”

“You do! The moment you feel insulted, or something’s unfair, I don’t matter anymore!”

“I.. I..” Ghostbur blinked rapidly, looking between Fundy and Phil before he vanished through the wall connected to the living room.

Fundy reached up, tugging at his hair as he screamed. “Fuck!” He turned towards the wall, seething. “Who’s the coward now, huh? At least I finish conversations!” With that, he stormed up the stairs and Eret winced as she heard a door slam shut.

“I... what should I..?” She looked at Phil, who shook his head.

“Best to give him his space,” He said, catching Techno by the arm as he tried to sneak past. Eret blinked; she hadn’t noticed him or Tommy coming into the house with Ghostbur. “If you want to stay until he calms down, you can, but it might be awhile.”

Eret caught sight of the look on Tommy’s face and shook her head, cutting him off. “No, that’s alright. Just let me know if he’s okay.”

Phil nodded as he ushered Techno into the living room. Tommy glared at her before disappearing up the stairs. Eret sighed, making her way out of the house. There was no doubt about it now.

She needed to talk to Dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will feature good ol’ Techno & Fundy bonding. I’m not sure how happy I am with this chapter, but I wanted to update and I had most of it written out for a while, so here you go. Also, will I ever stop peppering in that joke about Eret’s Nokia? Nope!

**Author's Note:**

> I hoped you enjoyed! A comment and kudos would be nice, though I’m just happy if people like this. It’s been a bit since I’ve posted fanfiction.


End file.
